Comments on My Bipolar Baby: HELP! My Brother's Bipolar: A Sibling's Burden

my sister is bipolar, and at the risk of sounding ...

2011-07-18T02:45:01.961-06:00

my sister is bipolar, and at the risk of sounding immature/evil myself, i hate her & await the day that she dies. i know how horrible and cruel and heartless it is to say that about anyone (let alone your own sister) who is struggling with bipolar. but because of her, our entire family struggles on a constant regular basis -- for years. my friend's gave me their garage code so i can escape my sister when needed. im at their place again right now. our family is just fine whenever my sister is asleep (which thankfully is long periods of time). but when shes awake, she throws things at my face, breaks furniture, screams at us, blows up over any stupid little thing, blames my dad for being a bad father, blames my mom for being a bad mother, blames me for being a bad sister (cuz she's been the PERFECT daughter and sister... uh huh), and worries my parents that neighbors will call the cops on my sister and will get kicked out. she was also on the local news for damaging school property.

i know i sound crazy right now, but we had another "incident" an hour ago which is why i left again. i would have sympathy for her if she'd get help, but she has refused counseling & meds since january -- even against police recommendation. as of now, im sorry to say, i f***ing hate her and cant wait until she dies.

i have empathy for you mothers who try to be fair to the bipolar & nonbipolar child. you wanna be there for both & you wanna be fair to both, but its inevitable that the bipolar one requires more leniency and attention. my mom is so stressed out too. i dont have words of comfort or help to the mothers since i feel helpless myself. i guess the only form of comfort i can offer is that there are many families like you out there struggling with this complex, exhausting, and relentless issue.

Dear Sallie, Thank you for sharing your reaction ...

2010-06-03T20:18:48.651-06:00

Dear Sallie,

Thank you for sharing your reaction and response to my posting. I have always felt that if I could touch just one person from sharing my pain, it would all be worth it. You have made my wish come true.

I empathize with every word you write, and pray your struggles were conquered today, and every day.

Your wisdom gives me hope. I have a 9-year-old son...

2010-06-01T05:05:55.086-06:00

Your wisdom gives me hope. I have a 9-year-old son with bipolar disorder and it is taking a toll on his 6-year-old brother. My youngest never knows when he is going to... be shunned or accepted, loved or hated, given words of encouragement or cruel insults. He too, has "told" friends that his brother "went to the hospital", "has a brain disorder", etc. It never occurred to me that perhaps it gives little Eli some sense of power that he'll never find within the confines of home with a mentally ill brother. It's 6:30am and I want to go wake my baby and just cry and hold him. And now that I've had an "aha moment" I desperately and suddenly want to be able to somehow turn things around for him and he will feel safe and happy.
The sick feeling that wells up in you when you've decided once again that you're a bad parent is exactly what I feel too. I switch from being somewhat confident to panicky and fearful and my mind goes back in time grasping for what I have done wrong, wishing I could take back every harsh word or every time that I told him to "go find something to do" when he wanted me to play. The guilt is debilitating.
It's devastating when you realize you're a mother raising unhappy children. It's exhausting when find that your efforts to constantly do the right thing prove fruitless.
It's frightening to feel isolated and alone with your pain because no one understands. There's no one to "hear" you cry out for help and to make you feel okay and that you're doing the best that you can. Only reassurances that your kids are not okay from teachers, other children, parents of other children and relatives. The only thing I have is a computer and the internet and the prayer that somebody out in cyberspace will read my words. Someone I will never know and be able to share a glass of wine with and laugh and cry and feel connected to. I know that God hears me but since everything happens on "his time" I never feel His love when I crave it so desperately.
I get up at 5:30 to give myself more "alone time" so that I can prepare for the battles of the day.
I pray that you will find comfort in knowing that I'm living a life paralleled to yours and that although you'll never hear me say out loud that you are a good mom, know that we are doing the best we can with the cards that we have been dealt.
Thanks for having the courage to share your pain.